


As The Sea Receives A Stream

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Magic, Language of Flowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:59:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Severus Snape is newly rich and newlywed, but not all is well at Barberry Hall.
A mock!period piece with a gothic touch.





	1. Chapter 1

Barberry Hall was a welcome sight in the dreary January weather. The tall building with its arched windows and the windswept tower had never been a particularly sensible choice as a residence for anyone who had lived there, but wizards at least were less bothered by a remote location and soil that was barely fit for farming. The land appeared to have a mind of its own, welcoming some and rejecting others. Old wives' tales reported incidents ranging from an unlucky hunting party pecked to death by the very pheasants they had deemed their prey; to the legend of three fortunate sisters coming back with eternal beauty for the eldest, endless wisdom for the second, and riches beyond measure for the youngest after a night of dancing under the moon.

When Severus Snape looked at his home, he saw the freedom to do as he pleased and the lack of annoying neighbours, where others saw only desertion and loneliness. He saw untamed beauty in the rough landscape instead of dangers lurking around every corner. And he saw a clever investment in getting a vast estate for far less money than it was worth.

At the moment, however, it meant first and foremost shelter from the inhospitable conditions of a cold winter. Apparating had left small ice crystals clinging to his cloak and he shook them off while searching his pockets for a handkerchief to dry his face. It was almost fully dark and the forest around him came alive with foreign sounds and moving shadows.

The short walk to the front door would be unpleasant enough without dithering, but Severus took a moment to observe his surroundings and listen. This land was wilder than the streets of London or the manicured lawns of Malfoy Manor. There was a sense of hostility coming from the surrounding fields and grassy hills, and the encroaching trees and undergrowth had to be cut back every year or the house would be overgrown and lost.

He grumbled as cold slush began seeping into his boots and a few low-hanging branches snatched at his hair like long spindly fingers. It was all his own fault though, as no one had forced him to dine at his club instead of at home when the weather was so ghastly and he had not seen his husband in over a week. There had been something irrational and unappealing in the thought of finally returning home. He could not explain it. As foolish as it seemed now, it had made him turn in the opposite direction of his own house at the end of his workday.

Severus' heart became lighter when he reached the gravel path. He could not hear much beyond the crunching sounds made by his boots, although once or twice he thought there might have been twigs snapping behind his back. The following sound was louder and certainly real, but before he was half turned to look for the source of what he had heard, there was nothing but dark fur and wide jaws in his vision. A heavy weight crashed into him, making him lose his footing. There was nothing to stop his fall, and he had barely time to even think about reaching for his wand, before the creature had him flat on his back.

"Norris, no!" a voice shouted. "Come back here, you stupid mutt. Come here now!"

Severus recognised the voice of his butler, or rather, factotum, quiet fury simmering in his gut. Luckily, the weight on him was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"For heaven's sake, Filch!"

"Apologies, master," was the muttered reply, as Filch's dirty hands grabbed him beneath his arms without any concern for propriety and pulled him upright.

Severus bristled. His clothes were covered in wet sand and the burn of humiliation smarted, now that the first shock was over. Trying to brush himself off with little success, he gave up and turned his full attention to Filch.

"What is the meaning of this? What on earth are you doing out here with the help of this blasted beast at this hour?"

"Looking for poachers," the man hissed.

"Poachers. What are you thinking? There can't have been any kind of poaching around here for decades at least."

It was true. No poacher in their right mind would come to Barberry to supplement their pantry. The animals dwelling on his land were of a peculiar kind. They seemed to be less fearful and more aggressive than they should be. Herds of deer had overrun the herb and vegetable garden several times, stopping only to feed on what had not been trampled, even smashing their skulls against the panelled glass of the greenhouse to get to the more valuable plants inside. Filch had put up large nets to keep them at bay, although – now that he thought about it – there had been no further incident since last September. His husband must have worked as a good luck charm in more than one sense. Nevertheless, Severus preferred getting his share of venison elsewhere.

"I've seen strange traces and mauled carcasses. Someone is hunting with an untrained dog. I can show you, if you don't believe me." Filch sneered, his dog now happily panting by his side. "Anyway, I thought you'd appreciate it, _sir_. What with your husband always running off into the forest like a wood-sprite."

Filch had a particular way of saying the word. He said _sir_ in the same manner in which one might address a rat or similar vermin. Severus had thought of replacing him many times, but since he did his job well enough, and the little staff he had were the only people he could find who were willing to stay on for longer than a few weeks, he never went through with it.

"I'm sure, we shall be safe for the night," Severus said to bring an end to the conversation. "Go back now; I'd like a bath in twenty minutes."

Filch narrowed his eyes, but gave him a nod regardless, then passed Severus without another word.

When he was a few paces away, Severus called after him. The man turned back, his expression dark.

"I hope you haven't forgotten what I said about following my husband."

"Aye," Filch grumbled. "Haven't done it since."

 

 

* * *

 

After taking his bath and wrapping himself up in his favourite basil-green dressing gown, Severus found himself in the dark private sitting room between his husband's bedroom and his own. The room had gone cold without a fire. Remus had already retired by the time he arrived, however, Severus had been determined to join him as soon as he was clean, considering the early hour of the evening. Surely, Remus could not be asleep yet.

There was no light or sound coming from the other side of the door. Severus was of two minds: he had certainly every right to see his husband and demand some attention after his absence, but would it not be selfish, if Remus was indeed unwell, as his being abed suggested. With his skin prickling all over in goose-bumps, he decided at last that finding out for himself was the best course of action.

The room was quiet, the only sounds coming from a ticking clock on the bedside table – a wedding present from Remus' parents – and the soft, steady breathing from the still form on the bed. Bright moonlight shone through the open curtains.

It struck him how ill-fitting to his husband's disposition and taste the room was. Like the rest of the house, with the exception of his study and workrooms, it had been furnished with the help of his old friend Narcissa Malfoy, long before Severus had even so much as entertained the thought of matrimony. He had never cared for such frippery, but the necessity of having a presentable home had not been lost on him. Despite being richer now than many of the old purebloods who sat on impressive but insolvent properties, no amount of money would erase the origin of his fortune or the contamination of his blood by his brutish Muggle father.

It had been a happy compromise at the time: Narcissa was grateful for every project that involved spending someone else's money and Severus had been safe from having to put any real effort into the improvement of his house. This room as well as the others reflected a combination of Narcissa's own taste and what she thought Severus' taste ought to be.

Dark hardwood floors were shined to perfection, and the exquisite wooden furniture was equally well maintained. The different tables, shelves, dressers, settee, desk and chairs matched perfectly. The hand-crafted damask wallpaper with its intricate charcoal pattern of leafy branches and regal birds made the room even darker. If one looked closely enough, one could see the sharpness of their beaks and the delicate lines of individual feathers. The dark grey of the sheets, cushions, covers and carpets was only interrupted by sparse accents of creamy white. The result was a room that revelled in the fact that its purpose were private matters. And although Severus would never have devised it thus for himself, he rather adored the outcome.

Lying on the bed like an offering was his husband. He seemed as pale as his silky nightshirt and as insubstantial as a ghost, resting there so neatly on his back with his arms on either side and the duvet pulled up to his shoulders, that Severus could have believed him to be a corpse artfully positioned for his wake, if it were not for the smallest movement of his chest as he drew breath.

An icy breeze from the open window made Severus shiver and pulled him out of his musings. He went to shut the window, frowning. Looking back to the bed, he saw that Remus was awake and smiling at him. He seemed neither surprised nor alarmed by the intrusion.

"I didn't expect you," he said, soft-spoken as ever, "No one's had any word."

"Yes. Well, we finished the order ahead of schedule. The new brewers are much more competent than I anticipated."

There was no reason to feel wrong-footed under his own roof and with his own husband, but he did. As if he was still an awkward schoolboy plagued with untimely knots who could only dream of the pleasures to be had in the arms an omega that would not look down on him because of his unpleasant face, traitorous accent and threadbare clothes. Sitting down on the side of the bed, Severus watched the duvet sliding down into Remus' lap as he moved closer, exposing the thin fabric of his nightshirt.

"I'm sorry you had such a poor welcome, I wouldn't have gone to bed, if I'd known you'd be back. Have you had dinner?"

Severus nodded and waved further apologies off.

"I ate at the club. I left before they started with cards, though. Parkinson was in high form, which, of course, made Lucius even more sullen. I don't know what it is with him lately. Normally, he would be overjoyed to watch one of his friends gamble away the rest of his ever shrinking funds. But enough of that," Severus said. Taking Remus' hands into his own, he was surprised to find them so warm. "How have things been here?"

"Good. The newly upholstered daybed for your study was delivered last week–"

"It's a simple couch!"

"If you say so. Well, everything looked to be in order. Aside from that, Mrs Fleet is convinced her brother needs a new kitchen to fully utilise his talents. You should probably talk to her. I tried dissuading her nicely, but I'm not sure how successful I was. I'd rather not spoil her dream that one day he'll be the chef of the finest restaurant in Diagon Alley, or better yet, cooking for the Minister himself."

His snort made Remus' smile widen.

"There were some invitations for you in the post. One of them is for Mrs Malfoy's birthday next week. It was heavily implied that your attendance is mandatory. Oh, and an application for a charitable donation to the _Society for the Preservation of the Cardiff Alchemical Archive_. I've put them in your study with the rest of your letters. Other than that, everything is pretty much the same as it was. Filch doesn't like anyone but his pets, and me least of all, since I made him clear the snow and ice off the greenhouse and the sunroom. He keeps glaring at me from the tower when he's feeding the owls."

"I'll speak to him."

Remus laughed, sliding his thumbs over Severus' palms in a gentle caress.

"Oh, it's no bother. He's an interesting character." Rolling his shoulders back and straightening up, he continued: "I rather enjoy his antics, I confess."

The smile Remus gave him was full of teeth. Severus shuddered. Rubbing his arms to chase away the cold, he looked back at the window to make a sure it was really closed.

"It's freezing in here. I don't know how you can sleep like that." He paused and shook himself, then sighed. "As much as I prefer it to town, the winters here are dreadful. I can never seem to get warm."

Remus looked it at him for a moment, his head tilted to the side, as though Severus was some foreign object under a magnifying glass. Then the corners of his mouth twitched and his unreadable eyes softened once more.

"Come," Remus said, holding out his arm in invitation and lifting the covers so that Severus could lie down beside him.

Something boisterous fluttered in his chest and a weight in his stomach flipped upside down. He went willingly and before he knew it, he was pressing his overly large and half-frozen nose into his husband's hot, fragrant neck, inhaling everything that was good in the world. Breathless laughter bubbled out of Remus, but Severus only buried his face deeper until he was surrounded by the scent he craved and could detect nothing else. He didn't know how he could ever have likened Remus to something dead, to some spirit of decay, when he was so clearly a creature of sunlight, of spring and summer, of growing things and sparkling life.

The warmth of Remus' body worked like a balm, soothing away stress and anger and the bleakness that seemed to have seeped from the draughty streets of the city straight into his bones. He pushed the growing hardness between his legs against barely covered skin, biting off a groan. Even now, there was doubt niggling at the back of his mind, telling him to pull away and apologise, although everything here was his for the taking. He was no supplicant begging for a favour, not anymore. If he wanted to behave like an animal and rut against his husband until the pure white fabric covering him was spoilt by his seed, he could.

A surge of energy went through him. He pushed himself up and took a deep breath. It wouldn't do to embarrass himself by panting like a dog. This part of his life was still new, but there was no reason to advertise it. What kind of alpha would he be, if he was so easily undone?

Remus was looking up at him, his face a picture of calm and patience with the hint of a curious smile. It had been so different on their wedding night. Severus could see no trace of those wide, apprehensive eyes now. He did not want his husband to be afraid, never that, but all those novels and volumes of poetry he had kept hidden at the bottom of his school trunk had told stories of awestruck omegas delirious with lust and crying out in agony until an alpha took pity on them, and his adolescent self had eaten up every word.

The arm reaching out for him was moving so carefully, as if its owner was afraid of spooking him. Gentle hands cupped his face and soft lips were pressed against his own. Severus swayed forward, his knees shuffling clumsily to keep his balance. Following the command of his lips, he returned the kiss, and deepened it with a thirst that should have been disconcerting. When Remus broke away, he looked less serene than before. Severus felt powerless looking into eyes clouded with something he could not name.

"I missed you."

The cheek pressing against his was as soft as the words. Severus had no time to mourn the loss of the touch when it was replaced with a pair of eager lips, applying sweet kisses to the side of his face, before coming to linger on his temple and finally retreating.

"I have missed your face."

How weak he was. When his husband asked him to close the curtains, Severus moved without thinking, banishing the moonlight with hands that were jittery with haste. He could barely see in the sudden darkness, but he did not stumble with the bed's siren song to guide him. He let his dressing gown fall from his shoulders on the way. With limbs gliding over smooth sheets, he blindly searched for skin, but found only the residue of warmth left behind by a body that was no longer there. Severus gasped when he felt the sting of teeth on his neck, before Remus' body pressed close from behind.

"I'm right here," was whispered into his ear.

Severus reached for him, but his husband was already moving Severus with sure touches until he was on all fours, disoriented and needy. His skin was tingling in the cool air and his cock and balls were so heavy with denied release that he would have promised Remus anything, anything at all, just to be allowed to satisfy himself.

At last there were limbs sliding against his own as Remus wrapped his arms around Severus' shoulders and pulled him down enough to taste his lips. Now Severus could feel the heat radiating off the body beneath him and his confusion about how Remus managed to get into his current position vanished like a puff of smoke. Pushing his tongue deeper into the pliant mouth, Severus wanted nothing more than douse Remus in his scent. Fumbling with the flimsy fabric one-handed, he managed to push Remus' loose nightshirt up to his shoulders.

How exquisite it was to have no barrier between them. Severus moved as if possessed, rubbing himself against his husband, biting the bared neck hard enough to bruise. His head was full of the familiar sweetness mixed with the undercurrent of a coming thunderstorm, and his nostrils flared to get it all into his lungs. A soothing hand eased down his spine as his leaking cock stained Remus' thighs and stomach. He was like a wave crashing into a rock, stirred by his need to conquer.

His mouth sought the sensitive skin of his husband's chest, suckling first one nipple then the other until they felt puffy and swollen against his lips. If it had been less dark, he would have been able to see their colour slowly deepen. Remus' body strained under the effort to keep still. When it got too much, Severus was drawn up into another kiss, while Remus' knees came up to bracket his hips. He could feel that Remus was just as hard as he was. Shifting his weight to position himself better, he sighed at the sensation of his shaft gliding over Remus' smaller scrotum.

His hand trembled as he touched Remus' hole. The slippery heat seemed to lure him. He wanted to push his fingers inside as far they would go, but he lingered on the rim, his thumb only circling the twitching muscle to make sure that his husband was ready to receive him. The wetness stuck to his fingers and he wished he could taste it.

Encouraging Remus to wrap his legs around his waist, Severus pushed his hips down, his cock sliding between plump cheeks. Before he had the chance to miss his target, Remus' delicate touch directed the tip of his cock to the right place. Assured of his success, he thrust deep. Wet heat engulfed him and he scarcely noticed the grip of Remus' legs tighten. A moan escaped him unbidden as he drew back more slowly. His heart hammering in his chest, he pushed himself into a mindless rhythm.

He had longed for this during the lonely nights when his business had kept him away, and he had nothing but dreams for company. With pleasure overriding all of his senses, the world around him dulled to a distant hum. Even while driving himself into his husband's body and filling the air around them with the wet echo of their coupling, he wanted more.

Severus stilled, taking a moment to catch his breath. Pulling out of Remus earned him a low sound of surprise. He instinctively leaned into the touch of Remus' hand on his cheek.

"What?" Remus asked, before pressing a careful kiss against Severus' slack lips. "What is it?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but the words would not come out. He felt his face flush.

"Have I done anything to displease you?"

He shook his head, frustrated with himself. How could he possibly hope to execute them, if he could not even voice his wishes.

It had always seemed so dirty to him, dirty and disrespectful. He could only think with revulsion of what he had accidentally witnessed between his parents all those years ago. One might engage in such activities with one of those harlots for hire that populated the dark corners and seedy establishments of Knockturn Alley, but surely, it was not something one did to a spouse.

He refused to remember his first and only visit to Lucius' favourite haunt. The people there had been like an exhibition in misery. One half had reminded him of vicious birds of prey ready to devour him, and the other had looked so broken that even Severus' cold heart could not have borne the thought of touching them. And even the hour with one of Lucius' highly recommended omegas had been nothing but a costly exercise in futility and humiliation.

He rolled off to the side, and kept Remus from looking at him by wrapping his arms around his husband and pulling him back against his chest. He suppressed a whimper when his incessantly throbbing erection came into contact with the tempting rear. Severus sighed. Tightening his embrace and nuzzling into the fine hair at the nape of Remus' neck, he could not calm his wildly beating heart.

"I'm sorry, I've been away so much. I should not have left you alone in this big, empty place."

"You make it sound as though I've been banished to a locked tower like some fairy tale princess," Remus said, squeezing Severus' hands. "You needn't apologise, because I don't mind – or no, that's not quite it – I do mind, but I understand. You shouldn't think I'm unhappy here, because I'm not."

He pressed a kiss into Severus' palm, before placing the hand in question over his own heart. "You've been very good to me," he continued much more quietly, "and, apart from seeing you more often, I wouldn't change a thing about my life."

Severus closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Letting the words sink in, an idea struck him. Would not the act itself be rendered different by its method? Would it not be just as right and proper, if it was done out of love? He smiled into his husband's nape, then opened his lips to taste the velvety skin, and did not stop sucking it until he was sure he had left a mark.

He purposely ran his hands over Remus' body until he reached the hem of the nightshirt that had fallen back down around his middle. Lifting his pliant bedmate, Severus had no trouble pulling it up and over Remus' head, before flinging it away. Hesitating only for a second, he finally took Remus by the shoulders and turned him over onto his stomach.

"Oh," Remus breathed, followed by a stifled sound that could have been a chuckle, but Severus could not imagine what might have amused him.

Remus understood, just as he understood Severus in so many other things. His eyes, which had grown used to the dark, watched avidly as the lithe back stretched and arched and strong legs spread open only for him. Severus was on him in the blink of an eye, guiding himself back inside and bottoming out with a heartfelt groan until he could go no further. He pulled Remus back into his thrusts with a firm grip on his waist, his eyes closing with the pleasure coursing through his body.

He wanted to be closer still. He crouched over Remus until he could feel the back, now slick with sweat, pressed against his front. This was how he would do it. This was how he would breed his husband when the time came, trapped and helpless beneath him, and tied into place with Severus' knot.

With his shoulders flat on the mattress and his face half-smothered by a pillow, Remus' moans were muffled, but Severus could hear them now. He had never seen Remus so affected. Now that he paid attention, he could feel how Remus moved with him, how he pushed back into Severus' thrusts as though he was too impatient to be filled. What a glorious spectacle he made.

After knocking the obscuring pillow aside, he could enjoy Remus' desperate gasps much better. He covered the hands that were gripping the sheets like claws with his own until they relaxed enough for him to entwine their fingers. The need for his own release faded into the background as he rolled his hips. When he changed his pace and angle here and there, he was rewarded with other sounds, shifting muscles and an alluring constriction where he was buried deep.

He could tell that Remus struggled to keep quiet, but Severus found he rather delighted in trying to draw him out. Touching Remus' own hardness made even more of a difference, earning him short, breathy cries which were like the sweetest music to Severus' ears, particularly those resembling his name.

It seemed to simultaneously take a long time and no time at all until Remus noticeably tensed and let out a final long, low sound, before collapsing onto the bed. Severus' hips kept moving, although he was almost too distracted from own his pleasure by the sight of his husband panting and twitching beneath him. His own release swept over him shortly after nevertheless.

Slipping out of Remus' body and gracelessly flopping onto his back, Severus was sweaty and worn out. He heard rustling sheets and then Remus was looking down at him with something wild in his eyes, before proceeding to drown Severus in deep, searching kisses that made him all the more light-headed. Spent as he was, he was powerless to do anything but receive what he was given until Remus' thirst was eventually sated.

Remus had always been light and quick, airy like a breeze rolling over the hills, but now he was heavy and slow. With his cheeks flushed and his limbs too boneless to move he rested against Severus' side and let himself be held by a man who had neglected him far too much.

Severus regretted a great deal when he thought of the last four months. He had hardly spent two or three consecutive days at home during the time when they should have learned each other's ways as spouses, but his business had to come first. The chance alone to supply even one ward of St Mungo's with their more advanced potions was too great an opportunity to pass. It was a risk, like any investment, to try and expand when there was no real call for it. He was more than comfortable, but so much had changed in the last eighteen months.

There had been no one to please but himself after his mother's death. But now he had to think of his husband. And although he had never cared for children in general and the thought of letting the Snape name die out with him had given him spiteful pleasure in his youth, he had changed his mind when it became clear how much there would be to pass on. So he would have an heir and probably more children after that, if his expectation of the immense pleasures of heat and breeding proved to be true. They all had to be taken care of when he died and securing a contract with St Mungo's, which would multiply his current profits, was a tempting way of reaching that goal.

Nevertheless, he wished there had been another way. Although Remus had never shown signs of distress and Severus had never heard a word of complaint from his husband, he must have been bitterly disappointed when Severus had not only delayed their wedding tour to some uncertain point in the future, but also practically abandoned him in a place, which – on days like these – seemed like the end of the world.

This night in particular had exposed how much he had to learn. Severus could not boast of possessing a thorough understanding of omegas or even betas and their sensibilities, or of women in general. With alpha men at least, everything was straightforward, and omegas were supposed be the same. Intercourse of any kind with an omega was supposed to be simple, natural and instinctive. Everything was supposed to just happen and fall into place, helped along by the omega's mysterious predisposition to have no need that could not automatically be met by an alpha.

But comparing the last hours to their previous encounters, Severus could not help but feel the difference most acutely. Remus always seemed amenable to his advances and content with their conclusion, but he had to admit, with a hot lick of shame stinging in his chest, that he had paid little to no attention to the way his husband experienced their congress. How selfish he must have appeared all this time. Either selfish or clueless, both of which were labels he did not care to attach to himself. He vowed to put more effort into all aspects of his marriage in future.

The beautifully crafted clock on the bedside table chimed midnight, and Severus watched as the split hand indicating the phases of the planets moved one day closer to the silvery circle of the full moon.


	2. Chapter 2

The following days were spent in joyful relaxation. Although the announcement of his intention to stay put for now was met with less enthusiasm than he had hoped for, Severus was convinced there was nothing more sinister behind it than his husband's reluctance of getting in the way of his business.

The strange dreams of suffering small bites from elusive insects while being unable to move, would have disconcerted him more, if he had not woken up on the day after his arrival to the sight and sensation of Remus nuzzling the inside of his thigh. What followed after had overwhelmed Severus to the point of speechlessness, so much so that the look on his husband's face had gone from elation to concern to regret, before Severus had been able to snap out of his daze and reassure him how very, very welcome his actions had been.

There was a new openness and fervour in their interactions. Severus might almost call it hunger, and would have been more alarmed by his shrinking concern for propriety, had it not been so exhilarating. He had not known true bliss before. He had not known how many uses his hands and mouth could have, and in how many different positions he and his limbs could be while they made love. Remus' instructions were neither confined to the night-time hours nor to their respective bedrooms.

He was reading in the library one afternoon, when he felt eyes on him, a burning gaze coming from the shadows between two shelves. Severus ignored it at first, intent to concentrate on his task, but when he looked up he could not take his eyes off the man stalking over to him with precise, feline movements. His book was soon discarded, and he was too busy with Remus in his lap to even mark his place.

Another memorable occasion found them in the greenhouse, where Severus held his half-dressed husband up against the glass wall, while he only opened his own garments enough to free his erection. The rough fabric of his outer robes made pale skin rosy, and the rare winter sunshine turned Remus' eyes gold. The panelled glass rattled with every thrust.

Severus quickly became much better acquainted with every inch of Remus' body. He had not noticed before to what degree his husband kept himself covered, even when they were alone. He knew the reason, of course. There was a big unsightly disfigurement marring his flank, and Severus was all too aware how much he suffered from the blemish. It was one of the reasons why he resented Remus' parents. A botched healing charm performed by his mother had turned what had surely been a minor wound at the time into a gnarled mess of scar tissue that had to cause some amount of discomfort even to this day. If the original injury had been a cut or scratch, and what shape and size it had been, was impossible to tell.

After witnessing how much speaking of the scar had pained his husband, Severus had not asked again. It had infuriated him though, to see it on their wedding night, because it confirmed what he had long suspected: the recklessness of Remus' mother and the lack of sense, duty and responsibility of his father.

The Lupins had never been rich or important, but they had been respectable. At least until they had lost their small Cornwall estate and even smaller fortune to a number of creditors. They had removed themselves to a small cottage in Hogsmeade by the time Remus was twelve, and although they were known as exceedingly pleasant people, rumours of gaming debts and other debaucheries clung to them like mud. Although they might have never met under different circumstances – than Severus watching from afar as Potter, Black and Pettigrew snuck away from Hogwarts to spend time with one of the village boys – it did not change the way the Lupins' behaviour offended his sense of honour. Carelessness was something Severus found hard to forgive.

When they bathed together one evening, Severus made sure not to ignore the scar for the first time. Remus' nervousness was obvious, but he let Severus do as he pleased, and tolerated every touch, every caress and every kiss. Lying back in his large copper bathtub later, Severus covered the detested spot with his hand until it was time to get out.

Five days after his return from London, they were taking a morning walk through one of the more densely wooded areas of the estate; however, Severus was more inclined to think of it as a march. The weather had grown colder overnight and the wet muck of earth and fallen leaves had turned into patches of ice. Half-frozen and miserable as he was, Severus could not help grumbling as he stumbled after his sure-footed, fresh-faced husband. His boots especially were giving him trouble, although it was possible that his new stockings were bothering his feet.

"When _are_ we going to reach this mythical destination of yours? I'm beginning to suspect it doesn't exist and you're merely too stubborn to admit you're lost," Severus said, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

Remus turned back to him, as he was a few paces ahead.

"We're almost there."

"You said that the last time I asked."

"Yes, because the last time you asked me was two minutes ago." He smiled, looking Severus up and down. "But you'll be happy to hear that it's right over there."

He pointed to a hollow that housed nothing other than more trees, dirt and ice. Muttering to himself, he went after Remus regardless. Brushing aside branches and dried shrubbery, Remus uncovered the entrance of a cave. Before Severus could voice any objection, Remus had already crouched down and climbed inside.

The interior of the cave, as he soon found out, was dark and even colder than it was outside. Severus lit his wand with a _Lumos_ and shuddered.

"I'm sure your thirst for exploration can wait until the summer," Severus said, his voice echoing back from the walls.

"No, you'll want to see this now, I promise. It was supposed to be a surprise for your birthday, but–"

Severus sighed.

"But I wasn't here, and then I didn't want to hear anything about it, because I had more important matters on my mind."

Remus was unwinding the thick scarf from his own neck and wrapped it around Severus, before rubbing some warmth back into Severus' hands with his own that felt almost hot in their surroundings. If Severus had been able to say no, he would have tried.

"Very well. Take my wand, I'll follow you."

So he was led by the hand through the dark unknown, slipping here and there on wet stone but never allowed to fall. Then he saw it. What started as a faint glow grew stronger and stronger until he recognised the luminescent spores he had only seen in person once, long ago during his apprenticeship. They were everywhere, fully developed and ready to be harvested. He stared, his knees going weak, and he would have sunken to the ground without Remus' steadying grip on his elbow.

"I think they're – I really hope they are what I think they are," Remus whispered, pulling the travel-sized edition of Severus' _Rare Magical Herbs and Fungi_ out from the inside of his cloak, and showing him the page with the illustration in question.

But Severus did not need to compare his book to the reality around him. He knew what he saw.

"Yes, oh yes," he said in awe, "those are vathecophorous spores. How – how did you even–"

He shook his head laughing.

"Have you any idea how long it takes for them to grow to that size? They're worth a fortune on the ingredient market alone. And to think what I could do with them. It's invaluable, simply invaluable."

"And it takes about ninety years until they reach their full size, yes. I _have_ read the article, you know, I didn't just look at the pictures."

Severus kissed him. And then he laughed and laughed and twirled his husband as if it was spring and they were dancing around a maypole.

 

 

* * *

 

With the excitement of their discovery rushing through his veins, Severus was inclined to find no fault in the world, and to listen to his marvellous and clever husband. Despite being reluctant to go, he was persuaded to attend the Fawleys' annual hunt to maintain important connections and perhaps even forge a few new business contacts. He would not stay the whole week, since three days should be long enough to achieve his purpose. He certainly did not intend to participate in the hunt. As much as he despised Muggles, their practice of the sport at least involved effort, whereas wizards were content to stun or curse their prey and then have it collected by an army of dogs, house-elves or servants.

Rising before dawn the following day and leaving the warm embrace of his husband, Severus began doubting his plans. Here he was running off again, after not even a week in his own house. Only a few days ago he had lamented his own selfishness and yet he was already willing to repeat his mistakes. He had sufficient contacts for the time being and there would be other opportunities to rub shoulders with potential clients and investors in the future. He knew where his own economy came from, where his need to amass even greater wealth originated, but learning to feel secure was a long journey he had not yet completed.

However, he felt secure enough to deem his husband overly scrupulous. Though Remus' tender concern was understandable, even commendable, Severus' actions had to be his own and they had to be guided by reason. There was more than enough work to be done here. The spores, at least, needed to be safeguarded properly and catalogued as soon as possible.

After a couple productive hours in his study, he was waiting for Remus in the dining room, so they could break their fast together. Rubbing his neck now and then and tapping his fingers on the pristine tablecloth, Severus only stopped when he heard steps in the hall. Then Remus came through the door and stopped in his tracks. All colour drained from his face and the ready smile slipped from his lips.

"You're – you're not going to Fawley's?" he said with a wavering voice.

Severus did not understand the sudden change. Surely, a simple alteration of his plans did not warrant such shock. He was annoyed by Remus' lack of gratitude and his stiff demeanour.

"Have you already grown so tired of my company that you cannot wait to be rid of me again?"

His tone had been closer to snapping than he intended, but he could not restrain his temper. The happiness of the last days seemed such a stark contrast to the distance spreading between them now. The glowing warmth Severus had felt until only a moment before, could not persist in the cold light of morning. His husband was clearly disappointed to find him still present.

Rising from his seat at the table, he decided to give them both space for the day, before he said something he would regret. With the familiar sting of bitterness clogging his throat, he could hardly stop himself from brushing off the hand on his sleeve that was trying to stop him.

"Severus, please. I didn't mean anything by it. I was merely surprised. I'm glad you're here, truly – it is just that I'd rather not have you neglect your business affairs on my account. You have done so much for me, and I wouldn't want to be a burden."

The words must have sounded hollow even to Remus' ears. He could not meet Severus' eyes.

"I have work to do. We will speak about this later."

He left Remus standing and walked away. Despite his frustration, he idled on his way through the house. His hand seemed to have a mind of its own and he was mortified, when he realised that he had been scratching his scrotum for some time. That, of course, was the moment he noticed one of the maids levitating a feather duster over the large chandelier in the entrance hall.

"Ah – Ada! I didn't see you there."

"It's _Bertha_ , sir," she replied, looking equally annoyed and scandalised.

"Y-yes, of course. I'll let you get on."

He secluded himself in his study and went over the books his overseer at the manufactory had owled the night before – his hard-won concentration only interrupted by Mrs Fleet bringing him a lunch he had not requested. Resenting his grumbling stomach, he ate it anyway.

The afternoon did not improve his mood. Unable to go back to work with his head full of everything that had happened, he went to the library in search of distraction. He could not deny feeling a pang of disappointment to find it empty.

The padded window seat Remus usually preferred was unoccupied. Armed with one of his periodicals, Severus sank into it with a sigh. The world outside looked bleak. There was no sun peeking out from the thick cloud cover and bands of fog were meandering through the garden.

Severus knew he was prone to anger and quick to feel slighted. With a little distance he found he did not approve of his own behaviour. There was something going on, he was sure of it, but his outburst that morning would hardly induce Remus to open up to him. Mulling over ways to fix his blunder and warmed by the gently crackling fire, he drifted off.

He dreamed of the forest. He was running and calling out for Remus, but he could not reach him. The bright blue of his cloak was a constant flicker in the corner of Severus' eye, but as soon as he turned his head, it disappeared. Eventually he realised that he was not alone. Tall figures in dark hooded cloaks and frightful masks were running with him. He willed his legs to go faster, but they outpaced him easily. The next glimpse of blue proved disastrous, because the men ahead of him attacked as one, grabbing the struggling form in blue and forcing him to the ground.

Grotesquely long fingers shredded the colourful fabric until they reached skin and red started seeping into the surrounding snow. Severus stood rooted to the spot, his feet slowly sinking into the ground and he could not pull them out. Losing his balance and falling to his hands and knees, his situation deteriorated as his hands were already stuck in the same kind of quicksand. As close though powerless as he was now, he saw that what he had thought to be cloaked men were not human at all. They were terrible beasts with unkempt fur, standing upright on their hind legs; and what Severus had assumed to be masks were distorted faces with vicious-looking snouts full of razor-sharp teeth; and those long, cruel fingers were claws slicing Remus' skin. Severus called his name over and over, but his glassy open eyes remained fixed on the starless sky.

The sound of a bird pecking against the window startled him awake. His hands were shaking hard enough to crinkle the paper he was holding. Becoming aware of his surroundings, he shook his head to clear away the remains of the dream. Daylight had faded into dusk. There was no sign of Remus.

He was about to put the barely read journal aside, when a small stain on the first page caught his eye. He tried brushing it off, but instead of disappearing, it grew beyond the extent of his thumb. Bleeding into the paper like spilled wine and smoothly covering ordinary letters was the shape of an oleander blossom. Severus dropped the thing in shock.

He rubbed his tired eyes, then deliberately blinked a few times. When he looked down at the scattered papers, the flower was gone. Turning the title page over onto its back revealed no sign of either the stain or the fantastical print he had seen. He must have been still dreaming.

Finding his husband turned out to be equally futile. Neither Filch, nor the housekeeper and her brother, nor the maids had any knowledge of Remus' whereabouts. The maids in particular were never of any help. He thought he had been talking to Bertha, although he could not say so for sure; but how was anyone supposed to tell them apart, when they all looked exactly the same.

It was probably an overreaction due to their unpleasant encounter in the morning, but a search party was assembled shortly. Despite his best efforts, Severus could not stop his mind from recalling Filch's suspicions about poachers in the area. The thought of his husband set upon by a bunch of ruffians made his blood run cold. He sent Filch with his dog, Mrs Fleet and her brother, as well as the two maids in three different directions with the strict order to report back to him in an hour. Severus himself climbed the stairs which led to the top of the tower. From there he had the best, unobstructed view in all directions. Noticing how much the fog had thickened while he slept, he cursed.

Soon he was whirling from one corner of the tower to the other, desperate for a sign. Then he saw it, a flash of blue. He Apparated.

His sudden arrival made Remus flinch. He dropped the small bundle he was carrying and looked at Severus with wild eyes.

"Are you all right?" Severus asked, anxiety colouring his voice. He touched Remus' shoulders, then patted him down quickly. "Everyone is out looking for you. Did you get lost? Coming here was thoughtless in any case. You could have wandered into the moor and not known it until it was too late."

"The moor is at least a mile west from here."

The quiet, monotonous words made Severus pause. Remus did not look well. There were dark circles under his eyes and the usual colour in his cheeks had given way to a ghostly pallor.

"What have you been doing? You must have noticed how late it is."

His gaze fell on the piece of cloth that had fallen from Remus' hands. In its contents – now spilled on the ground – Severus recognised pieces of aconite, maidenhair fern, heather, winter cherry, fennel and Iceland moss. Yes, he thought to himself, aconite or monkshood was the flower Remus' cloak had always reminded him of.

"Those are poisonous, you shouldn't touch them without gloves," Severus said, while turning Remus' hands over, checking the skin for signs of irritation.

Before he had a chance to finish his examination, Severus found himself in a sudden embrace. Remus held on to him tightly, pressing his face into the crook of Severus' neck.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, but you can rest assured that nothing bad will befall me out here."

A rustle coming from a nearby shrub made Severus raise his wand, before quick, warm fingers stilled his hand. A moment later a mean-looking marten appeared, its beady eyes glinting in the twilight.

"I'm far from superstitious, unlike those fools who believe this region to be cursed just because it's a little harder to grow potatoes. But any land so rich in magic bears its own set of dangers. There are many things around here that will harm you, if given the chance. You shouldn't be so careless with your own safety."

"This is your home," Remus said, his voice shaky. He pressed even closer as if to emphasise his point. "Our home. You need to have faith that it will protect you and everything that is dear to you. If you treat it well, it will return the favour. It will. It has to."

Severus had no answer to words he considered a potentially hazardous fancy, but this was not the time to argue his husband's benign view of the world. Remus was trembling in his arms. Severus Apparated them back at once.

After getting some sustenance into Remus and putting him to bed, Severus paced the length of his husband's bedroom. He had come to a decision earlier and the subsequent events had only confirmed his resolution. He was weighing his words carefully. Something had to be done, if Remus' first reaction to a disagreement was to throw caution to the wind and run from him.

Although Remus had a propensity to tease him and Severus sometimes got the impression he was being laughed at, he knew it was never mean-spirited. He actually rather enjoyed the fact that Remus found him so entertaining. Intelligent, gifted, intimidating certainly – or rather brooding, spiteful and unpleasant to the less well-meaning observer – but no one had ever found him fascinating before. Aside from those remarks made in jest, Severus could not remember a single word of opposition since the day they married. That had to be unusual, albeit considering how little time they had spent together in the last months.

Being what and who he was, Severus expected a certain degree of obedience from those around him, including his spouse, and he could not deny how much Remus' easy compliance appealed to him. But everything could be taken too far. If Remus indeed felt as supported and cherished as he should, Severus would be the first and most ideal audience for any sorrow or concern. Again, Severus was unable to recall even one instance wherein Remus had involved him in a personal problem. All this time, he realised, he had taken comfort and given none.

What needed to be done was clear. He had to implement the idea that they could and should communicate openly into their relationship, that they would deliberate each side of an issue to find a compromise that was agreeable to them both. Remus was neither a servant nor a child, and Severus had no intention to treat him like one, even if he reserved the right to have the final say in any matters of importance.

How it was to be achieved was less certain. He was averse to putting undue blame on his husband's shoulders, when it was Severus' obligation to steer their life in the right direction. He had to find the correct words to put his plan into action without driving a further wedge between them.

"I know something is troubling you," Severus said at last, addressing the silent man in the bed who had been watching him patiently for the last half hour.

"And I don't blame you for failing to bring whatever it is to my attention. If it concerns what my healer discussed with you this past November, I want to assure you that – ahem – that your lack of or rather the delay of your, well, that is, of your particular time of fertility is no reason to cause you any feeling of anxiety. Mr Perry explained to me in extenso how very delicate and susceptible to external circumstance the, ah, inner workings of an omega are. You've experienced a lot of change in the last year after all, and when things are more settled, I'm sure everything will put itself back in order quite naturally."

"And frankly," he went on, "I'm not fond of children. They are loud and sticky, instinct-driven creatures that always get underfoot, and while I am determined to be more tolerant of my own descendants, I see no problem with waiting until you're ready, entirely ready – so you see, there is no rush, no rush at all."

Severus took a fortifying breath and stealthily touched his burning face. When he felt sufficiently calm once more, he went over to sit on the side of the bed.

Taking Remus' hand into his own, he continued: "I fear I've used you ill. You must get restless and lonely cooped up here on your own for so long. And not only is that my fault, no, I've also made it worse by cutting you off from your friends and family. You know how I feel about Potter, Black and Pettigrew. And one of the reasons why I asked you not to see them again was concern for your welfare. You've lived such a sheltered and innocent life before our time that you thankfully never learned just how ugly the world and how hateful the people in it can be, and I was sure they would show their true colours in time and put you in harm's way. But the much more substantial reason was that I couldn't bear the thought that you have such a warm and long-lasting regard for people I consider enemies."

He paused, clearing his throat.

"I see now that my actions have been distrustful and selfish, and not worthy of you. Whatever I may have suffered at their hands, they have been good friends to you. And if I haven't earned your trust yet, I should at least be man enough not to begrudge you the comfort of confiding in someone that _has_ earned it."

He raised a finger to stop Remus from interrupting.

"I want you to take some time and think about what I said. I will visit the Fawleys and attend that blasted hunt and you'll have the peace to decide what to do. Don't think I'm trying to slight or punish you with my absence. I'll be back in two or three days, and then we will talk and you can tell me whatever it is you couldn't tell me before, or you can at least tell me what else I can do to help you. And if it consists of restoring contact with your old pals, well, I'm sure we can find a way to bring that about without giving them entirely free rein over your time and person. They must know you didn't break with them of your own volition."

Severus rose, then bent over the bed to brush a soft kiss on his husband's forehead.

"Now get some rest. I'll tell Mrs Fleet to bring you a breakfast tray in the morning. You could use the extra sleep."

 

 

* * *

 

Severus travelled to Berkshire early the next morning. Considering that it was still before noon, there were far too many people mingling on the impeccable lawn beyond the main terrace, when he came back down after finding his room. He had expected a greater loss in number due to hangovers and excessive eating during the grand opening festivities of the previous night. He barely had a chance to look for a familiar face, when a slender, expensively clad arm linked with his own.

"What a lovely surprise," Narcissa said, a genuine smile gracing her lips. "I thought you'd be too busy with other things."

"I've told you I might come."

"Of course. Although, given that my cousin and his friend Potter are here, I was sure you changed your mind when you didn't arrive yesterday."

He was not in the best of moods. Despite the progress he had made towards a reconciliation with Remus, he could not shake a persistent feeling of unease, almost dread that had followed him here.

"Sirius Black, just what I need."

"Oh, Black is gone already. He received an owl just now and left straight away. Must have been urgent," a new voice said.

Severus recognised the man as one of the Shafiqs, though he did not know which one of the brothers he had in front of him.

"Ah, excellent timing," the man continued. "The carriages are here."

There they were, a whole armada of imposing, though slow-paced thestral-drawn carriages, all bearing the Fawley crest. Severus sighed.

"I can see our destination from here. Why don't we Apparate?" he muttered to a smirking Narcissa.

"Don't be gauche, Severus. It doesn't suit you."

They settled into the spacious compartment with Shafiq and Hubertus Selwyn. Selwyn was an old acquaintance from Severus' time at Hogwarts who had been two years ahead of him in Slytherin. They still met frequently in London, although he was always relieved when he could end a conversation with the perpetually red-faced man.

Selwyn lost no time in shoving the latest edition of the _Daily Prophet_ into Severus' face.

"Have you seen this? Those good for nothing Oakbys plan to submit a petition to the Wizengamot to _'allow a select group of omegas basic magical training under Ministry monitored alpha supervision'_. Why does it concern them in the first place? They're almost all betas. Next thing we know, they'll be accepting omegas at Hogwarts. I don't believe it. Using a wand is no laughing matter. It takes sense and responsibility, and not to forget a magical core that is strong enough to be harnessed by a wand in the first place. Even if some of them have the magic, that they could handle it is a different question altogether. They simply do not have the brains for it!"

"I'm not so sure about that," Shafiq said, his calm voice interrupting Selwyn's tirade. "We trust them to bear and influence our children after all. Aside from that, I always thought it dangerous to keep them so very dependent."

"Nonsense!"

"I am no radical, Mr Selwyn. I speak of practicality and usefulness. They are not squibs, or at least in no higher proportion than the general population. Imagine the expense alone that could be saved, if they were able to perform simple tasks for themselves – that any alpha or beta can do easily – without having to rely on others. And it must make _even you_ uneasy, that even the highest born omega of the purest blood cannot defend themself against a disgruntled servant, or any of the common riff raff that litter the streets of this country."

The last part had been said in a graver tone. Selwyn, who would clearly be unable to gain agreement from Shafiq, turned to Severus instead.

"You can't possibly support this, Snape."

Severus had no intention to humour him. He did not care, if a gaggle of omegas performed some parlour tricks for their families in the same manner they demonstrated their other ludicrous accomplishments. The only omega that concerned him was his own, and he was sure Remus had neither the need nor the wish for a wand of his own.

"Don't be so hysterical. Even if it goes through, which is unlikely at best, substantial change will take generations. I doubt very much we'll have to accustom ourselves to wand waving omegas within our lifetime," Severus replied, thoroughly bored with the conversation.

He was glad when Narcissa announced their arrival. Severus walked with her, while the more ostentatious guests were polishing their wands and discussing strategy.

"You were suspiciously quiet on the subject."

Narcissa shrugged her shoulders in a practiced display of indifference.

"Oh, I was just contemplating an old observation."

He knew she wanted him to ask, so he obliged her: "And what kind of observation would that be?"

"That men – be they alpha, beta or omega – are constantly flying off into a tizzy at the slightest provocation, and yet you dare call us the weaker sex. Believe me, when I tell you that the fainting couch was invented _by_ a man overpowered by his emotions _for_ a man overpowered by his emotions."

Severus could not help smiling.

"I wouldn't dare call you any such thing."

"Because you are wiser than your peers."

"So what do you think about this omega business?" he asked, intrigued despite himself.

"I can't say I care very much either way."

"You mean, until it potentially becomes an issue for Draco or after that for his heir."

"Naturally. Whatever my son will turn out to be, I will make sure that he receives every advantage and opportunity a Black is entitled to."

"A _Malfoy_ , you mean."

She smiled politely.

"Come, we mustn't dawdle. I should keep an eye on my husband and my sister Bella, lest they forget themselves and curse each other instead of our dinner."

Severus saw it for the dismissal it was and let her be. He passed Rowle, who was loudly complaining about the chosen quarry of the day and insisted they should all hunt boars instead. To the side the Greengrass women stood decoratively grouped on a mossy mound, positively blinding in all their finery. And even from a distance he could see Bellatrix Lestrange's wand smoking from all the curses she fired at some poor pheasant or unlucky partridge.

Apart from stopping to chat with a few acquaintances here and there, Severus kept himself in the background, content to watch the proceedings and warm his hands on a glass of punch the squeaky house-elves kept providing for everyone.

Later Lucius, who had finally managed to free himself from his brother-in-law, came over and pulled him aside, interrupting Severus' observation of a highly stilted conversation between Narcissa and her sister Andromeda.

"You're letting things slide, old friend," Lucius said slyly. "Of course, _I_ know what kind of company your little country bumpkin of a husband keeps, but really, sending him one of your owls here, where everyone can see, is quite brazen, don't you think."

"What?"

"Oh no," Lucius simpered. "Don't tell me you didn't know."

Reeling, Severus excused himself to his obviously smug companion. He moved away from the crowd with balled fists to clear his head. Trying his best to convince himself that it was not true, could not be true, it nonetheless quickly dawned on him that there was a definite possibility.

Given his long absences and busy schedule, he could not be sure what Remus did with his own time. Perhaps the reason he never complained about being left alone at Barberry was that he was not alone at all. The hastily sent letter for Black could certainly not be the result of Severus' words of the previous night. It had to be clear that he had not yet given his permission for Remus to contact anyone, let alone to do so behind Severus' back.

There was only one thing to do. He had to know.

After consecutively Apparating a number of smaller distances, Severus finally reached home. The house was dark, although the lamps should have been lit by the maids some time ago. Inside it was equally dark. Making his way through the quiet house with the light shining from his wand, he called for his husband. Receiving no answer, he called Filch, then Mrs Fleet, then the cook and finally the maids. It seemed they were all gone. Had they been sent away for a guest that should not be seen?

Upstairs in the private wing, Severus spotted the heavy wards around his husband's bedroom immediately. They were too elaborate to have been placed by anyone living under his roof, since he was the only one capable of such advanced magic. Hammering against the door in frustration, he tried to be heard, although he already knew that the wards would keep everything out, including his shouts.

Dismantling the wards took time and effort. He was out of breath by the time he broke through. He flung the door hard enough to make it crash into the wall. With bile rising in his throat, he took in the sight before him. His naked husband, barely covered by his hastily thrown on dressing gown, stared at him in horror as the flames in the fireplace turned from green to their usual orange.

"No, no, no," Remus whispered.

He moved towards Severus, his wide eyes fixed on the open doorway, but Severus would have none of it. A flick of his wand shut and locked the door, another sealed every single window on the southern wall, their latches snapping into place one after the other. The third swish doused the flames in the fireplace.

"You’re not going anywhere," Severus said, his voice low.

He could still detect a faint trace of another alpha's scent, taunting him with the realisation that Lucius had told him the truth.

"If you think you can make a fool of me, if you think you can humiliate me, you're mistaken. If you think I'll stand by while you carry on with Black, you've got another think coming."

Remus was not looking at him, his eyes were frantically scanning the room. Severus made to approach, his anger growing, but Remus seemed barely aware of his presence.

"I should have known you were just like them. Spoiled, entitled little brats, thinking they own the bloody world and looking down on anyone who wasn't born with a silver spoon up his arse." He paused, gritting his teeth. "Is that how you – how you came to know so much about bedroom matters. Surely, that can't all have been innocent intuition. Did you like their trust funds so much that you allowed them some liberties, hmm? Lord knows you wouldn't be the first one. Did you play whore for them for a handsome reward in return? Must have been a mutually beneficial arrangement. And then what happened? Did they use you up and got tired of you, so they decided I could have their leftovers. Did–"

"You have to leave. Now."

The words were steely, the pale face grim.

"Don't presume to give me orders in my own damned house!" Severus snapped, his voice rising to a shout as his bursting magic made the windows rattle.

But his husband was not cowed. Severus startled as vice-like fingers seized his arms and forcefully dragged him across the room in an eerie display of unknown strength. Unable to resist, he stumbled along until they reached the dark fireplace, where he was pushed to his knees and held in place.

Remus, crouching down beside him, extended a desperate, unsteady hand to the blackened wood. With his eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted he stretched his fingers, reaching for something unseen.

Severus' eyes widened when small sparks shot from his fingertips and landed on the stacked fuel. More sparks followed, but they were not strong enough to revive the fire. Struggling to straighten up and gasping for breath, Remus was hit with something and, doubling over, he hit his head on the snowy, ornate marble.

He fell, freeing Severus from his grip. With blood trickling from the wound on his temple he crawled away on all fours. Severus scrambled up to help, his ire forgotten.

"No! Stay away! Go. Leave. You must–"

Remus curled in on himself with a pained groan. His body convulsed, his spine hunched and he cried out in such anguish that it chilled Severus to the bone.

Severus watched in mounting terror as the shape before him changed. Bones snapped and rearranged themselves, skin burst open to make way for fast growing fur, and Remus' face lost all resemblance to the man he loved as his features twisted into the hideous visage of a beast. His husband was gone.

There was no time to run. The creature shook itself out of its stupor and got to its feet and, raising its head to the ceiling beyond which the clear night sky lay, let out a bloodcurdling howl. And then it showed its teeth in a vicious snarl, before it attacked.

Everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the ceiling. The light of dawn was spilling into the room and he could hear the first birdsong of the day. Later he would remember being very calm in those first few moments, before suddenly descending into a lightheaded frenzy. He would remember casting off his clothes to search for the mark of a bite and the rush of relief at its absence, discovering the shattered window and the painful pressure in his chest when he looked down from above and did not see a broken body on the frozen ground. Remus had left nothing behind but the bruises on Severus' arms, where he had grabbed him the night before.

Severus did not know why he went after his betrayer, could not say whether it was revenge or concern that drove him. He made his way into the forest, his wand at the ready, and was surrounded by trees and far away from any discernible path before he knew it.

He turned sharply when he heard the caw of a crow. The scraggly bird looked at him, sitting on the dry branch of a dead tree, cawed again, and then flew off in a swish of ragged feathers. Severus was about to walk on, when he saw something where the crow's feet had been.

Healthy green shoots sprouted from the bare wood, rapidly developing serrated leaves, followed by a delicate stem winding around the branch with a heavy bud on its end that burst open into a rose of the deepest burgundy. He thought it was an illusion, probably resulting from the painful bump at the back of his head, but he could feel the velvety petal on his fingertips when he touched it. He saw another rose blooming on the ground a short distance away and another one after that.

Severus followed the path of the flowers until he reached a small copse of trees. They were bent into a strange shape with their branches entwined to make a dome, though he could part them easily. Within was the still and pale body of his husband. Moss had grown over him, covering him like a living blanket, and his head was bedded on fallen leaves. Mushrooms were showing their spongy heads all around him, and Severus thought the air felt much warmer inside this peculiar structure than in the wintery desolation outside.

He reached out in a daze, but – instead of feeling the chill of death – the cheek under his fingers was warm and the pulse on the neck steady and strong. Severus lost no time in brushing away the moss and wrapping a naked Remus in his cloak. With the weight of his husband in his arms he headed back.

The closer he came to the house, however, the more his doubts grew. It was beyond foolish to bring the man who had attacked and almost killed him back under his roof. He did not know by which lucky circumstance he had been spared, but he would play with fire, indeed, if he brought the same man, that same creature, back to where it could only wreak more havoc.

Then again, he could not let Remus roam free. Despite his wealth and position, there were plenty of people with direct or indirect influence over the Ministry, who would love nothing better than make Severus' life difficult for being an upstart whose talents had elevated him to undue distinction. Unknowingly or not, he had harboured a werewolf, had even bound himself to one, so that now the sole responsibility rested on his shoulders, and he had no doubt that the proper authorities would agree.

He needed to think. He needed time to decide on the best course of action. If he turned his husband over to the Ministry, he would not only implicate himself but also Remus' parents, and while he had no scruples to see them punished for the part they played, he knew his own reputation would be irrevocably destroyed as soon as the matter became public. He chose not to contemplate Remus' fate under the Ministry's care.

Handling it himself seemed preferable in every respect, but he was wary of making the wrong decision in haste. He needed to contain the issue until a decision was made, and that included his husband.

Apart from several cuts and bruises, he looked exactly the same. There was no new sign of meanness in his features, no trace of the fur that had covered him mere hours before, and nothing that hinted at the bulking strength Severus had personally experienced. It would be so easy to take care of him now, to see to his wounds and watch over him, and Severus' weak, treacherous heart wanted nothing else. But it had all been a lie: every sweet word, every look and touch had been designed to beguile him, and he had lapped it up like a gullible fool. What a good laugh Potter and Black must have had.

Severus knew he had to lock Remus away, out of sight and out of hearing. He would not be strong enough to withstand apologies and pleas. He put the body he was carrying down with a heavy heart. Thick chains shot from his wand, winding themselves around his unconscious husband until Severus was sure he would be unable to free himself. After hesitating for a moment, he finally coated the chains with a layer of silver.

He happened upon Filch when he reached the back entrance.

"Wha– what happened?" the man asked, his eyes wide with fright and the usual disdain in his tone absent as Severus levitated the chained body beside him.

"Never mind that. Where is everyone? I don't recall giving any of you leave or receiving any notices."

"Well, they're not here. Won't be back until tonight. You see, he – your husband, that is – always gives all of us an additional day off every month." Filch swallowed.

"And, of course, none of you saw any reason to mention this to me. Go back to your work. And you can tell the others that there won't be any more of these extra days in future. I shall withhold the share of your wages that equals the time you missed."

Severus put a firm hand on Filch's shoulder before he could get away.

"Tell no one what you've seen here. I'd hate to have to be unpleasant."

He watched Filch scurrying away, and then took them both down the long hallways and steep staircase into the cellar. There was plenty of unused storage room, and he put Remus behind one door that had a series of locks from the top to the bottom on the outside. It was a cheerless place, no doubt, but it was dry and not too cold and he left water and provisions for some light. Severus did not unchain Remus entirely, but let him have enough room for movement of his limbs to stand up, shuffle around and make use of his hands to some extent. He locked the door behind him, before he had a chance to think better of it.

Severus did not quite leave the daze he was in after that, he merely seemed to enter a different kind of stupor. Cooped up in his study and drinking too much, he cursed himself and Remus, and destroyed a good portion of the room's contents either with the help of his wand or his bare hands. He ate little and slept even less, although he felt a bone deep fatigue. He clung to his anger and bitterness like a lifeline, because allowing the pain might have finished him off.

Severus did not know how much time had passed, when Filch interrupted him once more.

"It's been two days, sir. Don't you, well, don't you think I should at least bring some water down, and some food."

Severus could not even remember telling him where he kept his husband. If he could only bury it all, and forget ever setting eyes on him. Though he handed over his keys to Filch regardless. But Filch did not leave. He remained standing in the doorway, wringing his hands.

"I'm sure, that there must have been some great wrongdoing on your husband's part," Filch said at last. "I don't doubt it in the slightest, but, surely, there must be another way to – it can't have been so bad to warrant this."

The keys clinked together in his unsteady grip. Severus stared him down, his mood turning darker, until Filch shrunk away further, as though he was enthralled by the gaze of a giant snake.

"I'll thank you to stay out of my personal affairs."

Severus' words had the intended effect. After a hurried bow, Filch fled from the room. Filch's cat, Mrs Norris, who had crept in after him, now padded over to Severus with her back arched and hissed. Before he had a chance to remove his legs from her path, the disgruntled cat had already swiped her claws over his ankle hard enough to draw blood. She was too quick to fall victim to his kicks.

He muttered curses under his breath as he paced the room. Feeling trapped in his own body, practically itching all over and even his feet feeling too big for his shoes, he gave the nape of his neck a rather vicious scratch, then hissed in pain. The hand that had been on his neck was smeared with blood. He rushed to the looking glass over the fireplace, lifted his hair out of the way and turned his head until he caught a glimpse of his wound. But it was no ordinary scratch. Rifling through the drawers of his desk and cabinet, he found a small hand mirror to see better.

There were inflamed but precisely drawn runes just below his hairline. Severus shuddered. Blood magic was for some of the darkest and oldest spells known to wizardkind, and it could be done without a wand. Remembering in which other places irritations had plagued him recently, he reluctantly shed his clothes. And sure enough, he found more runes, equally tender, on the soles of his feet and the underside of his scrotum. Going by the state of the marks, they had been activated recently.

The panic overcame him in stages. He had been cursed, was still cursed, and knew exactly by whom. His hands were too jittery to hold the mirror and his quill steady, but after a series of attempts, he managed a passable sketch of the runes that were carved into his flesh.

Hours flew by as he tore through his library searching for a clue as to their meaning and a possible method to reverse whatever had been done to him. His efforts were in vain. Despite being well-stocked, even exceptional in his chosen field, his book collection lacked variety and in-depth volumes on the dark arts. Although he had everything worthwhile that could be acquired on the current market over or under the counter, he had little access to the sheer mass of material most of the old pureblood families would have stored in their attics for centuries.

But then something occurred to him. Checking the latest edition of the _Daily Prophet_ , which had been dutifully laid out on a low table by a maid, for the date, Severus exhaled in relief. Narcissa's birthday celebration would be the perfect opportunity to find what he was looking for.

 

* * *

 

Malfoy Manor was decked out in splendour. Severus had taken some time to dress properly and calm himself, and was now hoping to make his way through the crowd unnoticed. He managed to reach the right part of the house without being intercepted by either of his hosts or any other guest, but within sight of the massive library doors a voice stopped him nonetheless.

"My eyes must be deceiving me, because I could swear I just saw you attempting to insult me in my own house, during my own soirée and on my birthday no less. No greetings, no congratulations, no gift. I have declared life-long acquaintances and relatives as enemies for less."

Severus sighed, closing his eyes. Narcissa stood before him, looking sublime in an elegant dress that flattered her colouring and matching dress robes.

"I thought you'd be busy," he muttered.

"Of course, I'm busy. But I've had little Tibby here keep an eye out for you."

A house-elf carrying a tray with delicate champagne flutes had appeared next to her. Realising that he was trapped, Severus surrendered to the situation. He took Narcissa's offered hand, but brushed her cheek instead of her knuckles with his lips. Her icy gaze turned to amusement.

"Many happy returns. And my sincerest apologies."

"I shall forgive you for the gift at least. I've told my dressmaker to send the bill for his latest creation to you. Do you like it?"

She turned in a graceful circle until he had seen her attire from every angle.

"You are a marvel, as always."

She passed him some champagne and clinked their glasses together, before he could decline the offer of a drink.

"Let's drink to my health, and then you can tell me what or whom you were trying to reach in such a rush."

Severus managed to steer them to the library eventually. Narcissa had kept their conversation to trivialities until they were alone and the rest of the party had receded to a low murmur in the background.

"Attending without your better half, I see. Don't think I want to scold you, but I confess I'm surprised that you're stepping out on him already. I've always taken you for the faithful sort."

"I am. I haven't taken a lover or any such nonsense. My husband is not here, because he is – indisposed."

"Oh," Narcissa said, her smile turning mischievous. "Indisposed as in ill, or as in a delicate but _joyful_ condition?"

"The former. It's early days yet and I'm not in quite such haste."

"If you say so."

Severus watched as she arranged herself on one of the sofas by the fireplace, her limbs held just demurely enough not to be an outright challenge to any alpha in her presence, even though the message remained clear as day. Bellatrix had taught her well. Although Narcissa had never said so herself, he rather suspected that she must have been disappointed when it became clear that she would not be able to follow her sister's path.

"Are you sure this isn't just you being preoccupied with your own state?"

"Excuse me!"

He regretted his words now that he saw that she was genuinely affronted. Sighing he sat down next to her and patted her arm quickly and carefully in apology.

"I'm sorry. I thought Lucius had implied something of the sort."

"Has he now. Well, he can imply whatever he likes until his hair falls out. I've done my duty. I adore my son, truly, but it was a miserable experience, and I don't care to repeat it. If he wants to have more children, he can bear them himself."

He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Tut-tut, Narcissa. I thought that was never to be mentioned again."

"You're right, of course. I can't imagine how it slipped my mind."

She seemed at ease again. After taking another sip of champagne, she continued: "Well, I suspect your little omega will be much more eager to breed than any Malfoy has ever been. And more suitable, too, I imagine. Those of lower standing tend to be made for little else. Though at least what they lack in mind and magic, they make up for in health and strength. A little fresh blood may very well provide you with a whole litter of remarkable offspring. And I'm certain, _your_ abilities will counteract any of his weaknesses." She leaned in, raising her brows playfully. "Yes, perhaps your choice was a clever one after all."

Despite his feelings of rage and betrayal simmering just below the surface, her words irritated him. The bitter disappointment and contempt with which he now viewed his husband did not change the fact that he would rather not hear Narcissa's abuse.

"You needn't go on. I'm well aware that you don't like him."

She laughed.

"Whatever gave you that idea? I like him just fine, though I _do_ believe you could have done better, at least regarding fortune and family. However, I don't trust him." She daintily shrugged one shoulder. "But then, if I only had friends I trusted, I'd never be able to collect enough of them for a small dinner party, let alone anything more lavish."

She looked at him for a long moment, then placed her empty glass on the serving tray of the house-elf that had appeared at the snap of her fingers.

"And now, will you tell me why you're really here?"

Severus explained his object as vaguely as he could. Narcissa consented to unlock the closed part of the library for him with little questioning. She held him back, before he could disappear between the shelves and stacks on the upper tier.

"Do you require any assistance? I hope you know that I'd offer it gladly, if you need it."

For a second he was tempted, but remembering her words, he excused himself and let her go back to her celebration.

Severus had few friends, and trusted none of them completely. Was his charmed, successful life really so empty? Was there no one with whom he could share everything without censoring himself and holding back anything which could be used against him? He once believed to have found such a person, but he knew now that he had been mistaken.

Thinking of his first love, he could admit in hindsight that he had been barely able to be himself in Lily's presence while they were still friends. The sting he had felt then, learning of her acceptance of Potter's proposal, was nothing to the rampant despair currently swelling inside him.

Clenching his fists hard enough that his fingernails dug into the skin of his palms, he shook off his desolation and got to work.

Severus soon found the first pieces of useful information and clues that hinted where to look next. His breakthrough came some hours later, but by then every lead he found only unsettled him more. The runes and the related spell _were_ dangerous, but not to him. According to the numerous sources he had pieced together, Remus had bound himself to Severus in an obscure ritual, sacrificing his own blood and an extensive part of his magical power – while likely shortening his lifespan – to protect Severus from some unspecified evil.

It seemed that as long as Remus was alive, and excepting the killing curse, Severus would probably be safe from almost anything a witch or wizard could do to him. He checked and re-checked his findings, but reached the same conclusion every time.

His mind was in turmoil. He had misjudged the situation, had misjudged his husband. A spell that dark and dangerous – least of all because getting caught performing it would land most people in Azkaban – could not be part of some ploy to disguise Remus' true nature and motives. If Remus had indeed only married him for his money and the satisfaction of humiliating him, he would have no reason to protect Severus when his sham was eventually exposed. No, going to such lengths to ensure his safety could only mean one thing. There was no ruse, or at least not in the way he had suspected.

Severus had to sit for a little while. The last week had brought such a rise and fall in his happiness, such ups and downs in his condition that he felt utterly drained. He mindlessly counted his breaths until he was sure that his heart would not beat its way out of his ribcage and escape into the night.

He had to concentrate hard on putting away the books and scrolls he had examined and making it as hard as possible for Narcissa and Lucius to find out what he had been looking at. It took just as much effort to put one foot in front of the other, to Apparate and find his way home. When he finally stood in front of the dreaded door, his hands were shaking so hard that he could hardly get the keys into the keyholes.

He observed the scene behind the door with a strange detachment. Filch must have dragged an old rug into the room to make his husband more comfortable, because it had not been there the last time Severus had opened the door. He was glad to see that some of the water had been consumed and the food had been eaten.

A faded quilt covered in cat hair was wrapped around the figure on the rug. Severus increased the light in the room with his wand, then sat down close to his husband but did not touch him. Remus' eyes opened slowly. He blinked a few times before averting his gaze. Severus' words failed him.

As Remus moved to sit up, Severus caught a glimpse of the chains he had used to shackle him. He banished them at once. Remus rubbed his wrists cautiously, but did not look up.

"Have they been hurting you?"

"No, no more than iron chains would," Remus rasped.

Severus wanted to say so much, but he could not find the words. What could he possibly say that would atone for his actions? Where would he even start? The only thing he could bring himself to say was a simple question.

"What happened?"

"The bite? It was an accident – or no, not as such, but I did not go out looking for it, if that's what you think. It had everything to do with my father and nothing to do with me. You see, when I was a little boy, he helped wipe out an entire werewolf pack and the lone survivor came to find us on the full moon after. I don't remember what made me go outside that night, but I did. The rest is history."

Remus paused to catch his breath. Severus gave him some water to soothe his voice.

"I thought your father had some kind of administrative position before he left the Ministry."

Remus' laugh was weak and hollow.

"Is that what he told you? He was hunting dark creatures, Severus. He killed people like me for a living. Granted, he didn't do it himself, he only tracked information and assembled dossiers, delegated Aurors and handled the paperwork afterwards." He swallowed. "I suppose, I have to be grateful he didn't turn me in, but I know he only spared me because I'm his son and he loves me. He wouldn't have hesitated to execute someone else's child. I love my father dearly, but I don't think he's a good man."

"Why – why didn't you tell me? I mean, I can imagine why, but you must have known I would find out eventually," Severus said at last, when he noticed the silence growing too long.

Remus hummed as though caught up in a dream or memory.

"I remember when you began courting me, and when you proposed and when we married – all the time Sirius kept telling me that it was madness, that it could only end badly." He exhaled noisily and shook his head. "And I knew he was right, of course, I knew. But I didn't put a stop to it and almost killed you.

"Well," Severus said, his voice faltering. "At least you did everything in your power to protect me."

Remus' haggard face became even paler, which made the dark circles under his eyes, the bruise on his temple, and the blue tinge of his lips stand out more.

"I couldn't be sure it would work. You make it sound much nobler than it was. It wasn't noble at all. I did everything except the obvious, everything except the right thing to do: telling you and staying away. You've been nothing but kind to me and I've repaid you with lies and deceit."

His voice broke and he had to gather himself.

"I thought I was protecting you, truly, I thought I was thinking of you the whole time, but I realise now that I was only concerned for myself. It was selfishness from start to finish."

"I wouldn't call it selfish," Severus said, his stomach feeling like a cavern.

"But it was. I fell in love with you and I wanted to keep you. And I deluded myself into believing I could handle it somehow, that I could find some kind of solution, when I know all too well there is none. I didn't care that I was putting you and everyone else in danger. I'm putting you in danger still. I should have been strong enough to put your well-being above my own. Wouldn't I have done so, if I really loved you? I don't know what it is I'm feeling, but it's not selfless. It's not pure. And it's not truthful."

He hunched in on himself and buried his face in his scraped hands.

"I am so, so sorry. I wish I could have been better for your sake."

The whisper was barely audible. Remus' skin was ashen all over and his breath was rattling in his lungs. Alarmed, Severus reached for him. Remus collapsed into his side, apparently unable to hold himself up any longer. Severus managed get an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

"I know I have no right to ask, but will you do something for me?" Remus gasped, then continued in a rush, slurring the words into Severus' neck. "Don't let them take me. You can just put me to sleep. You can tell my parents that I got sick and that it was over too quickly to call for anyone. No one has to know. The people who knew are not responsible for my actions; there is no need to drag them into this. Or to sully your name, when you have every chance to make a fresh start. It will be over so quickly, and then all will be well again."

Severus recognised the searing blackness in his chest; it was his heart breaking.

Remus had gone still in his arms. Severus shook him to bring him back to his senses.

"You have to stay awake. Everything will be all right, I promise. But you have to stay awake."

But Remus was not listening any longer, his eyes were rolling behind his lids and the last thing he uttered before losing consciousness was: "I'm so cold."

Severus shook him again without success. He was gathering Remus' body in his arms when he saw something green in one upper corner of the room. Small, scale-like leaves were breaking through the plaster, followed by rapidly growing slender shoots which soon covered every corner of the room.

Severus did not stop to consider, if what he saw was real. He lifted Remus into his arms, staggering a little under the dead-weight. The quickly thickening branches with their small round cones had already reached the door, running like an entangled network of green veins along the walls.

Severus broke through and ran. His steps echoed through the dark house. He did not stop before he reached the entrance hall, which was quiet and undisturbed as on any other night. Panting, he looked around, searching for signs of more unwelcome vegetation, but there was nothing.

He saw no possible explanation. The other instances had been the result of a dream or a simple illusion, hardly surprising after hitting one's head; and none of his other gardening mishaps came close. The more exotic specimen in his greenhouse could be temperamental at times, usually breaking a pot they did not like or refusing to bloom, if he did not speak to them for too long, but even the malicious ones were fairly easy to deal with. But whatever they might do to express their displeasure, it was confined to plants that were already there. Severus had never planted a cypress in his life and they were certainly not indigenous to the region.

He made no conscious plan to go upstairs to their respective bedrooms, only thought of Remus needing rest and warmth. Nearing his destination, he could hear something like the cries of birds.

He could not believe his eyes, when he saw what was waiting for them behind the door of Remus' room. The sharp-beaked birds that had been drawn on the wallpaper by an expert Italian hand were clawing and pecking their way out of the two-dimensional surface, producing such a racket that Severus was even more astounded that none of his staff had been jerked out of their slumber. When the first bird that had freed itself from its papery prison came flying at him talons first, Severus summoned his last scrap of energy to slam the door shut with a wandless command and lock it for good.

"What on earth is going on here?" he whispered to himself.

Bewildered, Severus entered his own room instead. He put Remus down on the bed and tucked the covers around him to provide some warmth, before lighting a roaring fire in the fireplace. He did not know what to do. He did not know what ailed his husband, but feared that involving his healer might expose Remus' lycanthropy. Mr Perry had apparently not suspected anything of the kind during his last visit, but Remus had been perfectly healthy then. Now though – with the signs of Remus' ordeal still visible and the closeness of the full moon – Severus could not rule out that Perry might reach certain conclusions.

He paced the room, uncertain about what to do. He was sure Remus was in need of more help than he himself could give, but if he doubted even Perry's loyalty, who else was he supposed to call for. A name kept running through his mind. Narcissa had given it to him years ago in case of _emergencies_ , as she had called it then, belonging to a retired mediwitch willing to do virtually anything for the right price. But he dismissed the idea shortly, convinced he would only set himself up for blackmail, if he contacted her.

Then he heard the shouts.

"Snape! Snape! Come quick!"

Severus rushed out of the room and then down, down, down to where Filch's voice was coming from. He felt a strange kind of oppression once he stepped outside. Stormclouds were gathering in the sky and the wind whipped his hair into his face.

Looking around him he saw numerous signs of destruction. Some of the sheds used for storage had caved in, fences had fallen over, bits and pieces of the facade were raining down from the building. And there, close to where Severus thought his husband's underground prison had been, was a long black swath of scorched ground.

But Severus kept running until he reached the group by the tower. There they were standing in their nightclothes: Filch with his cat on his arm and the dog by his side, Mrs Fleet in her nightcap which she had to press against her head, lest it was blown off, her mouth breathing brother with his chicken legs peeking out from a too short nightshirt, and the two maids – one a scrawny and tall redhead, the other a short and plump blonde – all of them wide-eyed and frightened.

He did not need to ask what had driven them outside at this time of night. Before him the tower was swaying, its foundation cracking from the strain. At last the wildly hooting owls were taking flight, and the tower – with a furious noise of breaking wood, crumbling stone and screeching metal – collapsed.

Severus herded them all back to a safer distance, but they were caught in a wave of dust and debris regardless. When the worst had settled down, they were dirty and coughing, had watery eyes and buzzing ears.

"You have to go! It's not safe here," Severus ordered, probably louder than it was necessary.

He handed Filch over to Mrs Fleet and the cat and dog to the maids. They did not argue and Apparated one after the other.

"But Lupin," Filch cried, only a moment before he was whisked away by Mrs Fleet. "You can't just leave him–"

Severus was the only one left outside. He surveyed the damage of his property, weighed down with leaden limbs and an even heavier heart. What a faithless creature he was. Remus had been right. The land had treated him well, had welcomed him and provided for him; had even gifted him with the vathecophorous spores, because he had not tried to tame and shackle it. But now it would repay his cruelty in kind. It would take everything. The tower, the house as a whole, was only the beginning.

But at least, he told himself, there was still a chance to save Remus. He raced back inside. Out of breath and exhausted in body and spirit, he finally sank to his knees beside the bed where his husband lay. The wind had blown open the windows and extinguished the fire. Fallen leaves were scattered over the bed, and Severus brushed them off as far as he could reach from his current position.

Resting his feverish forehead on Remus' still, cold hand, he said: "Forgive me. I know that no words of mine can excuse what I did. But please. Please come back to me. You have called yourself selfish, but I have been worse. I was vindictive and cruel. I've played judge, jury and executioner. I found you guilty without giving you a chance to defend yourself, and wouldn't have listened, if you had tried to offer an explanation. I let my resentment rule me. I didn't believe in you or myself. I neither trusted you nor my own judgement. I assumed the worst, and nothing else but the worst, when I should have known better."

He looked up into Remus' motionless face.

"And all this is only the latest of my crimes. I've been more selfish in the last two years than you could ever be. Don't think I don't love you, because I do. And I've loved you then, but that was not the reason why I chose you."

His eyes burned and he had to look away.

"I chose you, because I thought you were beneath me – in fortune and consequence, and even in intelligence. Because you had fallen on hard times, so I wouldn't have to be grateful and deferent to you and your family. No, you were the ones who were indebted and had to be grateful, and I wanted you to feel it. I wanted you to be dependent on me, and to enforce your loyalty with that dependence. And my love for you didn't stop me from making a bill out of the advantages and disadvantages of our union. And it didn't stop me from considering other, more prosperous matches while I was already courting you; and I don't doubt that I would have thrown you over, had I found one. And then I married you, not because my love for you prevailed, but because I expected you to be the least inconvenient."

He had to pause to collect his troubled thoughts.

"I do so love looking at you. Though I don't think I've ever truly seen you before. I've wanted you very much and I wanted a spouse, but I – I don't think I've wanted a real person, a human being of flesh and blood. I only wanted to be loved and adored, I wanted to be listened to and obeyed, comforted and touched. I didn't care what you wanted. I took your happiness for granted, because, well, what could you possibly have wanted, when you already had me."

Disgusted with himself, he covered his face with his hand.

"And so I've treated you as I would a piece of furniture. I've neglected and abandoned you, when I could have been here, when I could have been home, perhaps even every night, but I feared you'd be a distraction and I didn't want to be burdened with your company and concerns, when I had work to do. I've used you and called it love. I took and took from you and gave nothing back. And when you at last acted like a real human being, I lashed out at you and hurt you and caged you, and exposed myself as the vicious creature so many believe me to be."

Severus rose eventually and climbed onto the bed to lie down next to Remus.

"You doubted your own love to be love. But what is mine in comparison? You've given me everything: yourself, your magic, your lifeblood. And that can only make me feel more wretched, because I'm not worthy of it. Is even asking your forgiveness not the epitome of selfishness? But I will do it anyway. So please, forgive me."

He took Remus' face into his hands and stroked his thumbs over the sunken cheeks.

"Will you not wake up?" he pleaded. "If only to tell me _no_ and condemn me."

Although Severus thought he could detect some warmth returning to the skin under his fingers, Remus did not stir. Battling the aching weight that seemed to compress his ribcage, he did the only thing he could think of. The only and last thing that might help.

It was not done among wizards anymore, or at least not in the more civilised circles. It was something animals and unwashed Muggles did. It was crude, risky and savage, and he shuddered as he thought about his mother's scar and the promise to himself that he would never be like his father. He had never believed that it could create some kind of mythical bond beyond the mundane before, and he did not believe it now, but he fastened his lips over the spot between Remus' neck and shoulder, close to the collar bone, nevertheless, and bit down.

Severus heard a gasp that was not his own. Holding on, he made sure to draw blood and leave a mark that would be permanent. Then he let go and wiped his mouth carelessly with the back of his hand.

Remus' breaths were growing stronger and his eyelids fluttered. Cradling Remus' head with one hand and sliding the other arm behind his shoulders to lift him into a better position, Severus bent over to bring Remus' mouth where it needed to be.

"Come now," he said. "I'll let you sleep as long as you like, if you only wake up long enough for this."

Moving sluggishly and without aim at first, Remus managed to open his lips eventually.

"Yes, that's it. Just like that."

When the bite came, it shocked Severus with the intensity of the pain, but he held Remus' head in place until he could be satisfied with the result.

"Yes–," he praised. "That's it. That's good."

He did not let go afterwards, but forced his tired eyes to watch Remus' face with his blood-stained lips for any sign of change.

It came gradually. The colour of Remus' skin returned from its deathly pallor to something close enough to normal, his breathing and heartbeat grew stronger, and the blank stillness vanished by and by.

As though emerging from the bottom of the deepest lake, he whispered Severus' name in confusion. And upon seeing the fresh wound on Severus' neck, he only blinked and shook his head.

"What have you done?" Remus whispered, his fingers hovering over the broken skin.

"Bound you to this world, and to me, in the only way I knew how," Severus replied, before pressing a lingering kiss on Remus' forehead. "Looks like you're keeping me after all."

Remus smiled. It was small and weak, like a pale winter sun only just visible behind grey clouds. But it was enough to make Severus give into the fear and grief which had threatened to overwhelm him for so long. He could neither stop his body from trembling, nor the tears slipping down his nose. He was splayed open, and – perhaps for the first time ever – he let himself be seen without disguise.

Even though he thought himself undeserving, ungrateful, presumptuous and a pitiful picture of an alpha, he let himself be held and comforted and hushed, until he slipped away into the peace of sleep.

 

* * *

 

It took time for things to get better. Rebuilding was slow, but Severus preferred being overly cautious to another collapse. Filch with his pets, Mrs Fleet and her brother, as well as the two maids came back when the house was ready for inhabitation. Filch's behaviour in particular transformed into a peculiar blend of loyalty and disapprobation to Severus himself, and the former dislike of Remus, though still present, was now tempered by a grudging protectiveness that earned Severus dark looks and a poke or two with a rake or broom whenever he so much as raised his voice in his husband's presence.

His failure to sign an exclusive contract with St. Mungo's was a setback, though the losses were manageable through downsizing and his regret was mostly limited to his professional pride. The business remained prosperous enough on a smaller scale as Severus dropped the simpler mass products like cough drops and Pepper-Up Potion for good to concentrate his work and that of his brewers solely on specialised concoctions that not every half-witted apothecary in the country could do for themselves.

Severus' most serious and lasting concern was his husband. Remus had grown quiet and elusive after those few days of chaos. It seemed as though something unseen had a hold on him, though Severus could not say whether it might be death itself or the land surrounding them.

He roamed through the woods and fields for days on end, only coming back after dark to slip into Severus' bed smelling like the wind and wild herbs and bringing back hot kisses and tender hands. Despite his fear that one day Remus would not return to him, Severus never tried to hold him back. Instead he worked, saw the people he was able to tolerate, and tried his best not to fall back into old habits.

Eventually, Remus' smiles and laughter grew more frequent, he spent more time inside and with Severus, started talking again and pursued his interests. Severus let Remus visit whoever he liked and go wherever he pleased. Perhaps he was not exactly thrilled to have Remus' old friends or his parents occasionally poking around his property, but he bore it with something that at least resembled graciousness.

Remus' heat did not come. Although Severus could not deny feeling a pang of disappointment in the privacy of his own mind, he was quick to quiet down any remarks or reproaches from outsiders directed at his husband with a viciousness that never failed to shock the offender in question. After all, Severus still had a quick temper, he had merely improved his ability to control it better, and therefore unleash it against worthier targets when necessary.

 

* * *

 

"We should really get you one of your own," Severus said, shielding his eyes against the bright morning sun.

He was sitting on the beach of a small private bay on the Cornish coast two summers later, watching idly as his husband used Severus' own wand to put up an airy bulwark against the sun out of some light, silky cloth he conjured with a graceful flourish, so that Severus could have the luxury of shade while still feeling the fresh breeze on his skin.

"I don't want you to get in trouble."

"That _is_ rich coming from you – with your, well, let's call it _playful_ approach to following the rules."

"That's different. I don't mind a little trouble for myself, but I'd mind it very much when it concerns you. And I'm getting along just fine, thank you."

Severus huffed, but did not object. The decrease of Remus' magical power pained him still. Patiently taught by his mother and later his friends, Remus had been able to perform a rather impressive variety of wandless magic before, but most of it was simply gone. He was still a quick learner under Severus' continued tutelage, but it seemed he would be dependent on a wand for the rest of his life. Sometimes Severus thought it would be easier to bear, if Remus resented him for it.

It was a constant reminder of his worst sins, just like the premature flecks of grey in Remus' hair and his lack of children, despite being so fond of them, unlike Severus himself. In a regrettable outburst a few weeks earlier, Severus had accused him of carelessness regarding his own safety and that of their potential children, because the protective ritual he had conducted would probably kill him, if Severus died first. But Remus had remained defiant, had actually laughed in his face in exasperation, when he told Severus: "It can't be reversed. Every bit of magic has its price and if you ask as much of it as I have done, there is no taking it back. Even if it could be reversed, my dearest love, you can't make me."

Severus made a face when Remus settled down beside him.

"You're getting sand everywhere."

Remus smiled and nuzzled a flushed cheek against Severus'.

"Hmm, and I'm planning to get sand into even more places by the end of the day."

Severus did not deign that remark with an answer, though he pulled Remus close when he laid his head on Severus' shoulder.

"Well, I had actually intended something a little grander, but it's not as if we won't have time for a few more extravagant locations before we're expected home. And no, I certainly don't consider a trifling three-month honeymoon as excessive, when it's been such a long time coming – never mind. Do you like it?"

"Yes," Remus said, closing his eyes and inhaling the summer breeze. "I've missed the sea."

"You never came back?"

"No. I think leaving broke my father's heart, and he couldn't stomach returning after that." Tilting his head up, he drew Severus into a kiss. "Thank you. For everything."

Then he got up and let his clothes fall where he stood.

"What are you doing?" Severus hissed.

But Remus only shrugged his shoulders, grinning.

"I thought this is why you brought us here, so we wouldn't be disturbed."

"Well, yes – but – that's, that's no reason to – you're going to burn to a crisp!"

"I'm too hot for clothes and I'm going for a swim anyway," Remus said as he leaned down to give Severus one last kiss. "I'll see you later."

Severus sighed in contentment, then lay down on the outspread blankets amidst the water-sounds and, looking up into the woven blue, curled his naked toes into the sand.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Richard Wilbur's Merlin Enthralled.


End file.
